Spiderwho?
by Lavender Wonder
Summary: Movie-verse. While fighting a new enemy, Spider-man gets Amnesia! What will happen to the city now if their favourite wall crawler isn't there to defend them with this new villian reeking havok? I suck at summaries, but this is the best I can do without g
1. Prologue to Emptyness

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Spider-man in anyway, except for a few comics and pics of Tobey Maguire(^__^). Otherwise, I don't own diddly- squat. The only thing I own in this story is the villan, Bladefly. I don't own anything else. If I make anyone else up this story, though, I'll let you all know. So, no sueing me!   
**A/N:**This is my first Spider-man fic. Ya! ^_^ This is also Movie-verse, so everyone will look like the peeps who played everyone in the movie. AKA, MJ will look like Kristen Dunst, Peter/Spider-man will look like Tobey(which I doubt anyone will have a problem with, expiecially me ~__^), etc. There will be some MJ/Peter romance in here sooner or later, and maybe some Jameson/Peter(Spider-man) friendship. Strike that; **understanding**.There might be some OOCness in here for Jameson at some points, but come on, does anyone like his personality in the first place? I don't. But, I'll still try to keep him in character. Also, thoughts and people on the other side of a phone conversation are _italics_, speech is this-- "I like eggs" or something like that. I won't actually say that, but you get the point. ~_^ So, enjoy! ^_^   
**Summary:**While fighting a new enemy, Spider-man gets Amnesia! What will happen to the city now if their favourite wall crawler isn't there to defend them with this new villian reeking havok? I suck at summaries, but this is the best I can do without giving too much away. ^_^; 

  
**

~Spider-who?~

**

  


~Prologue to Emptyness~

  
The Amazing Spider-man, AKA Peter Parker, shivered a bit as a strong, cold wind gushed towards him, and hitting his body fully, which was covered merely by his red and blue spandex suit. It was getting very close to winter, and it was already starting to show; Jack frost had already covered the once emerald green grass with white frost, and it now looked a lot like sugar with green dye in it. Peter looked downwards from the building which he was crouched down on, like a back catcher playing baseball, towards the phone booth at the side of the scarlet bricked wall of the large Queens, New York, office building. He looked around himself, seeing that no one around, other then some passing cars, since nobody wanted to be out in the bitter cold in the first place. 

Peter exhaled from under his scarlet mask, with those haunting white eye pieces staring at nothing in particular(if Peter had seen them right then, he would have realized part of the reason why most people didn't like his alter-ego); it was now or never. Peter had had no contact with MJ what so ever in the past month or two, ever since Norman Osborn's funeral. He hated himself for hurting his love so, but he knew it was for the best. 

But... 

He also wanted to set things straight with her, to see if she was ok, and to try and rebuild their friendship a bit. And now, after beating up a few robbers after an attempted robbery, he felt that with all of this spare energy pumping through his veins(even though he hadn't even really even broke a sweat), that now was the time he'd have the most courage to even dial the phone number. Biting his lower lip, hoping he wasn't making a mistake about all of this, Peter sprung upwards, and landed with grace in front of the booth. He then stepped into it, closing the glass door behind himself. He checked his watch which was hidden underneath his glove; it was 6:47pm, and it was starting to get a bit dark. 

Grabbing some spare change from a small pocket he had recently sewn into his costume, he fingered a quarter, then put it into the money slot with a soft _CA-CLINK_. He then dialed MJ's phone number, lifted up his mask so that only his mouth was shown, he then waited for MJ to answer as the rhythmic ringing from the other end made butterflies flap around in his wash board stomach.. 

After about 7 soft rings, the phone on the other end was picked up. "_Hello?_" the voice answered, clearly female. And Mary Jane's. 

"Hi, um, this is Mary Jane, right?" Peter answered, feeling his throat tighten up already at his first sentence. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,_ he thought to himself. 

"_Yes, who's this?_" she replied with a hint of pure curiosity in her voice. 

"...Peter." He finally stated, after taking a few moments to try and find his voice. 

Silence echoed through their connection. If it wasn't for the fact that Peter could hear her sharp breathing, he would have thought that MJ had died on the spot. 

A few more moments passed, and MJ cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "_Um, Pete, what a...surprise,_" It saddened Peter to hear the hurt expression in MJ's now soft voice. 

He closed his eyes from under his mask, and said with shyness and difficulty, "Listen, MJ, I'm...I'm sorry. About all of this," 

"_About all of what?_" 

"About...you know, at the funeral. And not calling you or anything the past month or two." 

"_N-no, you don't have to be sorry,_" she answered, faking a cheerful voice. Peter saw right through it. Then, she continued, "_I understand that you don't want to be with me, Pete. That's fine.._" 

"It's not like that, MJ," he responded without thinking, trying to defend himself. 

"_Then what is it 'like', Peter?_" Peter hesitated for two reasons-   
1.The way MJ had said it was hurtful, one full of sadness, and all at once with anger and venom.   
2.Because he didn't know how to respond after that. 

"It's...complicated," he sighed, "I wish I could tell you, but--" 

"_--But you really have no reason. You just want to stay away from me, and you feel guilty about this, and the only reason you're calling me is because you want to feel better about yourself, is that it, Parker?_" MJ cut off, this time her voice with nothing but venom in it. 

Peter froze, a bit hurt. "N-no! MJ," he pleaded. 

"_Don't. Just, don't,_" was MJ's only reply. She sounded like she was about to cry. "_Just leave me alone. Don't bother calling me again, Parker._" 

"MJ, I--!" _CLICK_. Peter slowly brought the phone away from his ear; she had hung up on him. Peter felt completely torn, and for a spilt second, wanted to crawl under a dumpster and wait to rot and die. The one that he loved now hated him, his best friend Harry held a grudge against his alter-ego, and was mad at Peter now for reasons too complicated to remember, his work was to bring in pictures of himself to a newspaper and watch his image get smeared all over the place like graffiti on a wall that nobody but the owner enjoyed, people had died because of him in the past, and he hadn't even talked to his Aunt May for two weeks, because he was too busy running around in his underwear as JJ called it, trying to save people and failing miserably, too. 

Great, just great. Peachy even. 

With frustration, anger, and sadness, Peter slammed the phone back on the hook. With gritted teeth, Peter tucked his mask over his face fully again, and stepped back into the cold early winter weather. Peter shivered a little bit, but shrugged it off almost instantly, going back into Spider-man mode. He had a city to protect, and he had all of the time in the world to wallow in self pity afterwards. Well, at least until the next time he put on his costume. 

Peter crawled up the wall of the office building without much thought, and jumped into a crouch onto the roof top of the building. Peter sighed, as he stood up fully. But, he was quickly afterwards interrupted by the strong tingling sensation at the base of his skull, his spider sense, warning him of danger. 

He looked around frantically; what was making his 6th sense warning him of? 

He was soon answered by an explosion from underneath him; the building he was standing on top of. He was flung backwards from the force of it, and was clinging to the side of the building next to it by his fingertips. Peter sighed in relief; he had caught it just in time. 

The relief was soon replaced by anxiety; what had caused the explosion in the first place? Terrorists? He wouldn't have been surprised, since he had heard about the terrorist attacks in New York about a year ago, and a war was about start between Iraq and America(I think, I don't watch the news that often. ^_^;). But, if it was, wouldn't have been the explosion... bigger? It had only effected the building, but everything else around it was fine. 

But his throat tightened a bit as the thought of all of the hurt people inside of the building. Now, was the time to take action and help those people. 

He jumped from the building his was clinging to as soon as he saw some people running out of the building and screaming like chickens with their heads cut off; at least some people were ok.. 

But he knew for sure there were still people in there, dying. He felt guilty of it, too; he was _right on the building_, and he couldn't help them at all. He had only realized the danger just before the explosion. 

Peter gritted his teeth, trying his best to dismiss those thoughts. He then ran into the building, which immediately greeted him with a room full of smoke, making him go into a coughing fit. He tried his best not to breath in the smoke, but found it very hard to. His eyes stung slightly from the smoke, but was mostly protected by the eye pieces of his mask. He couldn't see very well in all of the smoke, but could see bright flashes that belonged to fire, as he fumbled for a source of water. He soon found a water fountain, and drenched his mask in it to help protect him from the smoke. 

Breathing slightly clearer now, He raced through the building, shouting out for people. Soon, he found three people in total, and had rescued them and left them to the paramedics just outside the building, and was now going up to the top floor of the building, his last stop before he would get the hell out of there. 

"Hello??" he shouted out, a small cough following, anybody here??" He looked around, trying to see through the thick smoke. Suddenly, he felt his spider sense go crazy, and he jumped up without thinking, just in time to dodge a sharp piece of metal, resembling that of a Ninja's(I forget what they're called. ^_^;). 

And strangely like the deceased Green Goblin's. 

  
  
Spider-man's stomach lurched at the thought of that, and landed on his feet. He heard a cackling laughter afterwards, making him feel suddenly ill. He was then reminded of the time the Green Goblin had lured him into a trap, a burning building. This was just like that. 

"Looks like the Spider has fallen captor of a fly for once," the voice cackled, with a Japanese accent. Peter's eyes widened from under his mask as the figure came into view. 

The man was wearing a metal suit, like the green goblin, only the metal was all gray and purple. It's chest plate bared the letters 'BF' in bold black, and the arms and chest made him look like a person who worked out a lot, and was all gray. On his metallic gloves, it was all purple and had sharp nails, which looked like a cat's claws. On the wrists of them, it looked a lot like Peter's web shooters, but Peter knew right away by the looks of them, they weren't designed to shoot out webbing. There was a metal purple belt around his waist, and attached to it were many of what looked like the Green Goblin's metal bats and bombs. And his legs, were gray, and boots were purple. His purple mask, only covered the top half of his face, and his eyes were covered what looked like a fly's eyes, only they were shaped more human-like. It completely covered his hair, and ears as well. 

"Nice suit there, buddy," Spider-man started coolly. 

The man interrupted him, "I'm in no mood for your smart mouth, bug," 

"Well, then tell me this if I can't even be me," Spider-man huffed mockingly, "What do they call you? The robot? Steel boy?" 

"No, I'm called Bladefly," he sneered. 

"Really? I never would have guessed, you don't look like a fly to me. You got the blade part down, but you better reconsider your name; like Blade 'Bot or something," 

"Enough! I've got you where I want you, and you'll die before you'll ever get the chance to interfere with me and my plans, like you've done to so many people before!" Bladefly cackled once more, making Peter shiver because he sounded so much like the green goblin did. Then, Bladefly pointed his hand towards Spider-man, and to his surprise, out shot a burst of orange and golden flames right towards him. Spider-man barely dodged just in time since he was so stunned to see flames of all things shoot out of his wrists. He hooked onto the crumbling ceiling with his fingers and booted feet, and shouted down towards the villan, "Wow, nice trick there! But strike out what I said about you being called Blade 'Bot; you should be called Flame Boy." 

"Ha, ha." Bladefly sneered. He then pointed his flame thrower at Spidey again, and shot some more flames at him. Spider-man shouted out as the nicked him a bit, burning part of his left arm, but jumped out of the way before he could get burned further. 

_Why didn't my spider sense go off for that?_ wondered Spider-man as he landed on the ground. He glanced at his arm, seeing that part of it was completely burned off, revealing his upper arm muscle. "Hey, this was my favourite suit, too! It's not like I can just--" He was cut off once more by the feeling of fire burning his skin, this time his legs. He yelped out, jumping out of the way. "Next time, warn me before you go off and do that!" he shouted out, mostly to his spider sense. Maybe the smoke was really getting to him and his spider sense was going on the spritz because of it, he didn't know; he was just aggravated because of the fact it _wasn't_ working! 

Bladefly simply shrugged and fired some more flames at Spider-man, seeing that it was able to hit him. But, this time, Spidey was prepared, even without his 6th sense working properly; He flipped backwards before the flames could hit him, and landed on his feet, and at the same time, fired webbing at Bladefly. It covered his eyes pin-pointedly, making him snarl out in frustration, and claw at the webbing to clear his vision. 

That was all the time Spidey needed, for he raced up to Bladefly and kicked him square in the chin, sending him flying, and out of a broken and burnt window. Spidey chased him, and jumped onto the next short building, which Bladefly was miraculously able to land on unharmed. Just as Spidey landed, Bladefly was able to rip off the remainder of the webbing attached to his mask. Bladefly gritted his teeth at Spider-man, and growled out, "You'll pay for that, wall-crawler!" 

"Sorry, I just used my last quarter on a phone call," shrugged Spidey, "But maybe I can pay you with _this_!" Spider-man, who was only about two feet away from Bladefly, punched Bladefly square in the face, sending him flying again. He slid to the edge of the roof top, and was supporting himself in an odd angle to make sure he didn't fall off of the roof top. Spidey ran up to Bladefly, and was a few inches away from Bladefly, with his wrist pointed towards the villan. "Now, let's get things under _wraps_ here," he joked. He was about to web him up, when an evil grin crossed Bladefly's face, as he laughed quietly. 

Spidey froze. "What's so funny?" 

"This." Bladefly then with agility that challenged Spider-man own speed, lifted his own wrist, and flames spurted out of them, hitting Spider-man dead on. 

Spider-man's senses suddenly went off just before the flames hit him, as they sparked back to life now that they were out of the burning building. Spidey cried out in pain, as he skin started to burn, and he could feel his suit start to burn to a crisp. Including his mask. He backed up a few steps, feebly trying to shield himself from the flames. While Spidey was screaming in agony, Bladefly jumped up onto the edge of the building, elbowed Spider-man in the gut, making him recoil and stop his screaming in surprise. The pain right then was immense, as he realized for the first time that Bladefly had super strength, and was almost as strong as the Green Goblin. It wouldn't have hurt so much as well, if it wasn't for the fact that right where he elbowed was burned badly. Then, Bladefly kicked him in the gut as well, sending him flying. Before he could hit the edge of the building, which Spidey was balancing with struggle on, Bladefly karate chopped him in the head with great force, nearly knocking out the super hero, but just held on. Bladefly then grabbed onto the remainder of the neck of Spidey's costume, and grinned evilly right in Spidey's face. 

"How the mighty have fallen," he smirked, "All it took for the bug to be beaten was a bit of fire. I'm glad I decided to add that bit to my costume in the end.." he trailed off, then started up again, as he held Spidey up in the air, away from the building. Spidey could only watch in helplessly and in horror, since he felt to weak to move, as Bladefly cackled, "Sayanora, kumo,(A/N: Japanese for Goodbye, Spider)" Bladefly then realeased the hero, to fall to what Bladefly hoped was his doom. 

  
As the wind rushed past him, Peter tried to move his arm against the gravity of falling, but found that his arm was too heavy to do so, and was too weak as well. He cursed to himself when he found that he couldn't, and his life flashed past him; Uncle Ben and Aunt May, Harry, the Green Goblin, the genetically altered spider...MJ... 

Peter held back a scream as he neared a dumpster near the edge of an ally, and closed his eyes in irony; looks like he'd be able to crawl under a dumpster to rot and die after all... 

Peter's head soon made impact with the corner of the dumpster, and fell limp as he landed beside the dumpster, unconscious, and vulnerable. 

  
  
**~To Be Continued...~**

  
**A/N:** Before you people go reviewing saying that I made the bad guy unbeatable or something, he's _not_; he just had the edge where they were fighting. And also before all you rabid Spider-man fangirls/fanboys flame me, too, sorry about doing all of that to him!! He's my fave character and it was for the stake of building the plot, really! ^_^; Well, now that I'm done explaining some random crap...please review! I like reviews! I'll update quicker if I get reviews!! ^__^ 


	2. Reminds Me of Those Hospital Dramas

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Spider-man in any way, except for a few comics and pics of Tobey Maguire(^__^). Otherwise, I don't own diddly- squat. The only thing I own in this story is the villan, Bladefly. I don't own anything else. If I make anyone else up this story, though, I'll let you all know. So, no sueing me!   
**A/N:**Thanks a lot everyone for all of the great reviews! I love praise as you can tell! lol. Neways, here's the answer to Musagato's question-- 

About the webshooters thing, I'm aware that this is movie-verse, and that he doesn't have webshooters 'cause it au natural. But, you know those pointy thingys that stick out of his wrists? You see in the moive, when it first shows him as Spider-man, he's shooting webbing, and you can see that pointy thingy? Ya, that's what I referring to. Sorry if I confused you and anyone else out there. ^_^; 

  
  


~Chapter 1~   
~Reminds Me of Those Hospitals Dramas...~

  
  
As many people began to flee the area of the explosion or get their injuries treated, J. Jonah Jameson was inside of the next door building, which just happened to be the Daily Bugle. He was staring out of his office building, and every time Spider-man had came out of the building, every time with someone in his arms. He knew deep down inside that Spider-man was just saving them, but Jameson tried to ignore that; he hated how everyone loved that bug so much, so he would try to ruin his image with his newspapers. 

For the most part, it was working, but every so often, Spider-man would do something grand enough to win back the hearts of all of Queens, New York. 

Except him, of course. Spider-man would never win _him_ over.. 

It was then that Jameson noticed that it had been a few minutes since Spider-man had went back into the burning building. Jameson checked his watch; strike that, about ten minutes exactly. Jameson grew curious of what had happened to the bug, and maybe even a slight bit of concern. Something could have happened to him in there or something.. 

Jameson's query was soon answered as he saw a flash of peach, scarlet, and blue flash by his window, followed by a crash, and a yowling of a tomcat. Jameson stood up with a jolt. "What in _bloody hell_ was that??" he asked himself. He leaned over his window, but wasn't able to get a clear view of the alley. He huffed to himself, aggravated, and raced out of his office. 

  
Within a few minutes, Jameson was out of the newspaper building, and staring down the alleyway, with horror and surprise written on his face. 

There, lying on the ground, unconscious, was Spider-man, at least, he thought so, since his spandex suit was so badly torn and shredded with burn marks all over, that it was hard to tell it was him. 

That was, until his looked at his mask. Spider-man's mask was torn in half, revealing some brown singed hair, and from the left side of his chin to just under the eyepiece. In fact, the eyepiece was nearly ripped off the suit, and looked like it had melted a bit. The rest of the mask had a small tinge of black to it. 

But Jameson still wasn't able to recognize who was under what was left of the mask. 

Jameson felt a bit torn; Spider-man was his enemy, rival, and would have normally by now torn off the mask and call the cops so he could be hauled off to jail. 

But by the looks of it, Spider-man had had enough bad things happen to him already. 

Jameson shook his head, and took a step into the alley. He slowly made his way towards the fallen arachnid, and leaned over him once he had reached him. 

Spider-man looked awful; he had burn marks everywhere, and a nasty bleeding bump on the left side of his forehead, which was soaking through his mask. There was even a tiny hole there. He was also shivering uncontrollably, due to the pre-winter weather, and that fact that most of his body wasn't even covered by his spandex suit anymore. Jameson shut his eyes in frustration; he needed medical help, fast! But... 

_I've been waiting a long time for something like this to happen. This is my chance to unmask the bug. I admit I feel a bit sorry for him, but what else am I suppose to do at this point? Besides, I'll have to know whom he is when he gets to a hospital; for medical records or that kind of crap._ thought Jameson. 

Jameson then reached down for Spider-man's mask, and carefully lifted it from his face. 

Jameson dropped the mask in surprise, and a mix of other emotions he could determine, and gasped. 

Under the mask of the smart-ass, web swinging super hero was none other than Peter Parker. 

  
  
Jameson's brain filled up with a slur of mind-boggling questions, which he couldn't sort out. How...? Him? Of all people, Spider-man was Peter Parker? Peter Parker was Spider-man?? 

Well, that explained how he got so many good pictures of him(self), anyway.. 

Jameson was frozen on spot. "What the flying--" 

"Anyone down there??" came the voice of a paramedic. Jameson's eyes widened; this was his chance to reveal to the world who exactly was Spider-man! But, deep down, he thought it would be low and deceitful for him to do so, with the wall-crawler's current condition. He had enough honor in him to not do so.. 

But maybe one day, some day, he would reveal it, but today, he couldn't. He'd just try to forget it, pretend that he had just found ordinary Peter Parker, the lazy teenager who took pictures for him, in an alley. 

Jameson shook his head; this was so confusing... 

Acting quickly after hearing another call from the male paramedic, Jameson hid the mask in his jean pocket, and tore off his brown jacket, and putting it on Peter Parker properly. For now, he was going to protect the boy's secret. 

Key word-- For now. 

Jameson then raced from the alley, and called to the paramedic, "There's someone in the alley! He's unconscious, I think he got caught in the blast or something!" 

The male paramedic jogged for Jameson. He stopped and looked over him. "Well, how can I be sure _you_ didn't do anything to him?" 

"Listen, bub," Jameson snarled, anger filling him up, "I'm J. Jonah Jameson, and I would never do anything to hurt another being!(A/N: Ya, right. :P) So, just get the hell down there and help him out!" 

"Ok, ok, touchy," The paramedic said defensively, waving his hands in front of himself. He looked back at some other paramedics, and yelled, "Go to the alley! And bring the stretcher!" 

Before Jameson knew it, Peter was on the stretcher, and being brought into the large white hospital van. Jameson followed after them, feeling somehow that he should go with them. And, well, it looked like he was going to end up calling...whomever he lived with, or maybe his Aunt. What was her name? Kay? May? No, it was May. Well, he'd still have to end up calling her.. 

Jameson entered the ambulance, and sat down in a metal chair nearby the fallen wall crawler. He was groaning in his sleep, as the doctors started to work on him. Jameson cross his arms and stared blankly at Peter, deep in thought, as the sounds of the ambulance's sirens started to go off, and it raced to the hospital, carrying many other injured people as well.. 

  
  
May Parker was starting to wonder when her nephew, Peter, would ever call her again. It had been a few weeks since the last time he had called. And, they were talking about Mary Jane. He wouldn't stop talking about her almost the whole time; it looked like he still had that little crush he had on her since first grade, and didn't even know what love was. It went a bit like this: 

"How's MJ?" 

"Has MJ talked to you lately?" 

"How have you been?" 

"Has MJ asked how _you've_ been?" 

It was very strange. At one point, she had asked him why he hadn't called _MJ_ lately. After that, he had changed the subject to something else. That was the last time she had talked to her nephew. She sighed to herself, wondering what was happening to her nephew right now.. 

As if the angel of death had heard her call and answered, the phone behind her started to ring. Hopeful, May Parker set down the dishes she was cleaning from her supper, dried her hands with a towel, and picked up the phone. "Hello?" 

"_Hello, is this May Parker?_" said a gruff voice on the other line. 

"Yes, who is this?" 

"_This is your nephew, Peter's boss, Jonah Jameson. I..have some bad news about him,_" 

May Parker's throat tightened. "W-what happened Peter?" 

Jameson cleared his throat before continuing, "_He was found by the Daily Bugle, seriously burned and with what the doctors believe is a concussion. They haven't got his full condition yet, and they're still doing surgery on him as we speak--_" 

"I'll be over there as soon as I can." May cut him off, holding back tears of sorrow and fright for her nephew. She hung up before Jameson could reply, grabbed her coat, and ran out the door before you could say, 'Look, it's Spider-man!' 

  
  
Jameson stared at the phone in disgust. The woman had hung up on him. Jameson shook his head as he hung the phone up as well; why was _he_ the one doing phone duty again? 

_~Because, before you said you would, and no one else is around to do so.~_

Jameson always hated that little voice in the back of his head called his conscience. He never really listened to it before, but for the past half-hour or so, he had been listening to it a lot more than usual. 

Jameson's little inner squabble with himself was cut short when he heard the doctor call for him, "Mr.Jameson, I have some news about Mr.Parker," 

"Well, spit it out," 

The doctor pushed his black framed glasses up his nose and continued, "Well, sir, Mr.Parker is still under immense care, but we know what's wrong with him now. He has 2nd degree burns all over his body, a broken wrist, and a...concussion, a pretty bad one. We don't know when he'll wake up. He's not in a coma, but it's still pretty bad. He could die." 

  
  
A little while later, May was at the hospital, and in the waiting room, her tears flowing freely. Jameson had gone back to the office, now that she was here, and was currently all alone. She had called Harry, and he was on his way over to the hospital, and was going to call MJ soon. But, right now, all she could think of was her poor nephew; how could this have happened to him? Jameson had also told her about Peter's condition, and had held back her tears until Jameson had left. For some reason, she didn't feel that he was the type of person you could cry around freely without getting a disgusted look from him directed at you. 

Whipping away some stray tears, May sniffed sadly, and got up. She slowly walked towards the phone, and dialed MJ's phone number. She let the phone ring about nine times, then the answering machine came up. 

"_Hi, this is Mary Jane Watson, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep._" 

_**Beeeep.**_

  
  
"_MJ? It's me, Aunt May. When you get this message, please come over to the St. Patrick hospital as fast as you can. It's about Peter. Please, come quick!_" 

_**Beeeep.**_

MJ, who had actually been home, but thinking it was Parker, didn't answer her phone, listened in horror at May's message. MJ felt sick to her stomach. What could have happened to him? She was angry with him, but the thought of him being hurt still sent chills down her spine. 

MJ closed her emerald green eyes, trying to hold back the warm tears that threatened to fall. "Oh my god," she whispered to herself. She sat down on her maroon shaded leather love chair, whimpering softly to herself. She knew, deep down, that something terrible had happened to the photographer, which she had pronounced her love to. 

But right now, MJ felt that she should do what May had requested; go over to that hospital. She was probably under even more emotional shock than she was. 

  
  
By the time MJ had gotten over to the clean and over-worked hospital, Harry had already been there for ten minutes, and was currently trying to comfort his best friend Peter's Aunt May. Harry had a look of sadness planted on his face, but wasn't quite in May's state; she was bawling like there was no tomorrow, into Harry's shoulder, which was now a bit damp with tears. MJ was right; she was worse off than herself. 

Harry looked up at MJ as she entered the waiting room helplessly; he probably didn't really want his new black leather jacket to be ruined, but was afraid to leave the grief-stricken woman alone. MJ looked back at Harry with slightly bloodshot eyes; she had been crying before, too, but seeing her old boyfriend also was a little much. MJ sighed sadly, closing her eyes, and walked over towards May and Harry. MJ sat down beside Harry, her hands folded on her lap. She looked at the man who was currently head of Oscorp, and he looked back at her. 

"So,...what's wrong with Peter?" MJ asked quietly. 

Harry sighed, looking downwards. MJ knew that by the way he was acting it was something bad. "Pete...well, right now, he's still under care by the doctors, but before, they said that he has 2nd degree burns all over his body, a broken wrist, and on top of that...he has a concussion. A pretty bad one. The doctors said he's not in a coma, but they don't know when he'll wake up." Harry closed his eyes painfully when he heard MJ's stifled gasp, and May start to sob a little bit louder into his shoulder. 

MJ closed her eyes in guilt. "Oh my god, what have I done," she muttered to herself, recalling what had happened barely two hours ago. She covered her face with her shaking hands, to cover up her squinting green eyes, which had tears rolling down her smooth cheeks. "Oh, Peter," she whispered. 

  
  
**A few days later...**

  
  
Mary Jane entered Peter's hospital room for the third time that day. A few days passed, and Peter was still unconscious. Mary Jane winced everytime she looked at his condition; a long white bandage, which was now tinted red slightly with blood, was wrapped tightly around his head, his brown hair falling loosely over it in some stray spots. His left wrist had a rock hard, white cast around it, and an IV was inserted in his other wrist. Whenever MJ looked at it, she saw a small white-ish tint nearby it, and a small slit in the middle of it. She hoped that that was just another burn like the rest of his body was covered with, with ice packs every so often covering them, and nothing serious. He was also now wearing a sky blue hospital gown, but was hard to see other than the sleeves and top-part, because it was partly ripped so that the burn marks could be exposed and treated. A rough textured indigo sheet also covered him, but only covering his belly button down. 

MJ sighed, seeing Harry was dosing off in a nearby plastic chair. It was near 11:00pm anyway, so no wonder he was almost asleep. MJ crept up to the other chair beside Harry, and sat down softly on it. MJ glanced back at Peter, then gingerly took off her dark forest green wool gloves, which were slightly cooled by the crisp winter air. She pushed them into her ramie/wool mix ebony jacket pocket, and sighed to herself. She nudged Harry a bit, in an effort to wake him up, to let him know she was here. Harry jolted awake, grunting to himself a little in tiredness, and glanced at MJ. 

"Hey, MJ, what are you doing here? It's.." Harry asked softly, then glanced at his wristwatch. "Whoa, past 11:00. I'm surprised the nurses haven't kicked me out yet.." 

MJ chuckled a little. "Well, you were almost asleep there, so maybe she didn't want to wake you." MJ's small smile soon turned into a frown. "I guess Pete hasn't woken up yet," 

Harry shook his head grimly. "No, he's still unconscious. But one thing bugs me-- how could this have happened to him?" 

MJ sighed to herself, closing her eyes. "I don't know.." she started, pointing her face downwards. "..But it's all my fault," she whispered regrettably. 

"What?" 

MJ opened her eyes, and looked at Harry sadly. "A few hours before he got hurt, he had called me. He was trying to say something important to me, but I blew it in his face, because I was mad at him because of what happened at the funeral." She choked on a sob, "And the important thing was that he was trying to apologize to me about then." MJ buried her face into her hands, sobbing to herself sadly. 

Harry looked sympathetic at MJ, but then frowned after a minute. "But it's not your fault for what happened to Pete, MJ," he stated strongly, "Whatever happened wasn't because of you. It just...happened." 

"I still feel guilty, though," MJ said in between sobs, looking up at her ex-boyfriend with now bloodshot eyes. 

Harry sighed. "It's not your fault, MJ," he pressed on firmly. "You weren't anywhere near him at the time." 

MJ sniffed looking down. "Maybe, but I still wish I never said those things to him, he didn't deserve it." 

"Well, maybe you'll get your chance to apologize to him." 

MJ sighed, while trying to think of something to say back to Harry. Meanwhile, as if responding to what Harry had said, stirring began from the bed which Peter lay on.. 

It wasn't until they heard a soft moan from there that the two ex-love birds realized what was happening. Forgetting all that they were talking about, MJ and Harry leaped from the chairs, nearly knocking them over, and to Peter's side. 

MJ and Harry watched in awe as the injured Peter Parker slowly fidgeted his way out of unconsciousness, and start to crack his blue eyes open. Peter moaned again. MJ sucked in some air, and whispered softly, "Hey, Tiger? Wake up, it's me," 

Peter moaned once more in reply, and his eyes fluttered open. But as soon as Peter directed his attention over to the two silently, Harry knew something was wrong with the blank slate look in his normally vivid blue eyes. 

MJ didn't seem to notice, though, as she smiled in happiness for him. "Oh my god, Peter! Y-your awake! I'm so glad!" MJ gave Peter a soft hug to make sure that she didn't hurt the photographer too much, as Peter hissed a little in pain. "I was so afraid, Peter! Don't ever do that to me again!" 

"Um, MJ--" started Harry, noticing to confused look on Peter's face. 

MJ then sent a death glare towards Harry telling him to shut up, in which he did so obediently. 

MJ let Peter loose, and said to him, "Listen, Peter, I...just wanted to say that I'm sorry. For everything. I never meant to hurt you, ever. I promise to never do so again. I-I even just stay friends with you if you want--" 

MJ got cut off by Peter, "Um, thanks, but can I just ask one question?" 

"W-what?" MJ stuttered, a bit taken aback. 

"Who's Peter?" 

  
  
**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**   
_You never know what someone means to you, until you lose them._   
**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

  
  
**~To Be Continued...~**

  
  
**A/N:***points to first part of chapter* Weren't expecting _that_ now, were you? Ain't that a kick in the pants? ~_^ You have to make some sacrifices to keep stories interesting! Like JJ knowing what even Peter doesn't know anymore! And you know what I have to say about that? *pulls record player out of nowhere, sinister music plays* **MWAHAHAHAHA!!** ^__^ Eh, you can tell I watch too much Spongebob Squarepants, lol. Well, please excuse my insaneness! I just had a Halloween party, and I was a Vampire! Too much candy! But it doesn't mean I was writing this chapter at my worst! I saved my insaninty for the Author's Note. Hehe. Please review! ^__^ _**HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!**_


	3. Empty

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Spider-man in any way, except for a few comics and pics of Tobey Maguire(^__^). Otherwise, I don't own diddly- squat. The only thing I own in this story is the villan, Bladefly. I don't own anything else. If I make anyone else up this story, though, I'll let you all know. So, no sueing me!   
**A/N:**So, second chapter's finally up. I hope you guys will enjoy this. ^_^ On another note-- I got the Spider-man DVD!! Yay! ^___^ I watched it seven times so far, lol. But the outtakes are weird...o.O Also, note to Laxgirl- 

That would be a good idea for JJ, but I got something in mind for him, I've had an idea way before I even started this fic. ~_^ 

Well, I may do something like that to him in the end, but you never can be too sure with me. Besides, why would I let him know Spider-man's identity if it wasn't for something *special*? ~_^ 

  
  


~Chapter 2~   
~Empty~

  
  
You know the warm fuzzy feeling people get when something bad had happened to you recently, like your dog dying, or being thrown off of a 13 story building, and your friends and/or family stick right there beside you until you feel better, just because they care? 

Well, Peter defiantly wasn't feeling that; he had no clue who the hell the red-head and dressed-up male that were standing over him expectantly were. In fact, for some reason, he didn't know much at all, not even his own name; the only thing he knew was that he was aching all over, and there was a dull burning feeling all over him, too. 

The red-head was staring at Peter in utter shock, while the man had his eyes closed showing his sadness. Peter wondered why the man was so sad, and the red-head was so surprised; he had just asked a simple question. 

"Y-you don't know who Peter is?" The red-head asked after a minute, in a choked up voice. 

Peter shook his head slowly, but quickly stopped and winced at the throbbing pain in his head. So, he simply whispered, "No." 

"But y-you're Peter!" 

"Am I?" he questioned innocently. 

"Oh my god, what the hell happened to you??" She burst out, covering her eyes with her hands. She started a sob, which for some reason unexplainable, made Peter sad. 

"He must have amnesia, MJ," the man finally spoke. 

"Amnesia?" The red-head, MJ, looked up. She looked at Peter's forehead which was covered up by a large white bandage. She gasped, "Oh my god, Harry, I think you're right! But-- why? How could this have happened to him?" 

_I'm still here, you know, incase you've forgotten,_ Peter thought, as MJ and the man, Harry, started their conversation, as if he wasn't there anymore. Peter sighed, _Well, I guess I've forgotten a lot of things, too, so I can't really blame...whoever these people are.._ Peter rolled onto his side, away from the two, and closed his blue eyes.. 

  
"Well, obviously, it's because of the big bump on his head," Harry scoffed. 

"Well, I know that, but how did he get hit in the _head_?" MJ replied thoughtfully. 

Well, maybe when he got caught in that explosion, he got his head rammed into something," guessed Harry. 

"Maybe, but I guess only Pete would know, if it wasn't for the fact that he has amnesia..!" MJ said exasperatedly, louder than she wanted, "But I swear if anyone hurt him, I'll-- well, they'll wish they never laid eyes on him!" 

"Calm down, MJ, I know you're pissed, I am too! But we really should be quiet, because we're in the hospital and it's, like, 11:00 at night! The nurses will kick us out if we're too loud!" Harry pleaded. 

MJ looked into Harry's eyes for a moment, and sighed, looking away. "I-I'm sorry. It's just that, well, I find it hard to believe that this is happening! I mean, of all people, Peter deserves this the least!" 

"Speaking of Peter," Harry started, "He's been quiet for a bit." They both glanced back at Peter, only to see him rolled on his side, sleeping peacefully once more. 

MJ couldn't help but let out a small quiet laugh at that. But then, she frowned sadly. "Poor Peter," she whispered. 

  
  
**The next day...**

  
  
Peter woke up to the blazing sun in his eyes, making him draw back in discomfort. He moaned shielding his eyes, only to receive a flash of pain from the wrist of that hand, which was covered by a thick white cast. Peter glanced at it; now where did that come from? 

Peter was disturbed by the sound of the hospital room's door creaking open. He rolled onto his other side, careful not to injure himself further, and glanced at the people at the door. 

The red-head, Mary Jane, was back, with a sad smile on her face. There also, was a nurse with long black hair pulled in a pony-tail. The nurse entered first, "Well, it's good to see you're awake now, Mr. Parker." 

"'Parker'?" 

The nurse nodded at Peter, "That's you. And, I'm guessing Miss Watson right about you having amnesia as well," 

Peter blinked in confusion. "Who?" 

The Nurse tilted her head towards Mary Jane in small amusement at Peter's cluelessness, as the red-head also stepped in. For some reason, Peter felt his mouth go dry when he saw her in just the right lighting. _She's beautiful!_ he thought in amazement. He smiled a little at her, out of pure innocence and wonder. 

Mary Jane stepped up to Peter, her sad smile fading a bit into a genuine one, but feeling a little uncomfortable under Peter's I'm-not-sure-who-you-are-but-whoa! stare. She laughed nervously, and touched Peter's good hand, which was hooked up to an IV. "How you feeling, Tiger-- Um, I mean, Peter?" She corrected herself quickly, remembering that he probably wouldn't remember his nickname she had given him. 

Peter snapped out of his trance, and tilted his head a bit. "Um, fine, I guess. Sure, why not?" 

The nurse chuckled in amusement at him, as she checked the statuses on the machines that Peter was equipped to. She smiled at the reading, and turned off most of the machines. She turned to Mary Jane and proclaimed, "Look's like Mr. Parker's going to be fine. Just give his wrist, burns, and concussion time to heal, and he should be as good as new in about three weeks. But, he'll be able to get out of here as soon as his burns are healed, which will be in about a week." 

"What about Peter's memory? When will that come back?" Mary Jane questioned hopefully. 

At that, the nurse's smile faded. "I have no idea, Miss Watson," she sighed, "That will probably take more time to come back than for all of his other injuries to heal. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do about that." 

Mary Jane looked down at the ground, then back at Peter. "Sorry, Peter," 

_Well, looks like I'm stuck not knowing who this beautiful stranger is for a while, not to mention who I am,_ Peter thought sadly, even though the expression on his face when he looked into Mary Jane's emerald green eyes didn't change. 

Mary Jane soon broke from Peter's gaze sadly, and said, "I guess I'm going to have to break the news to your Aunt, Peter," she stated, "Oh, she'll be heart broken.." 

"Um, one question--" 

"Yes, you have an Aunt, Peter. Aunt May." 

  
  
May rushed into the hospital again for the second time that week. If it wasn't enough to have her nephew stuck in the hospital, it had to be topped off by having Mary Jane calling in saying that he had amnesia...! 

Before the secretary at the desk could ask who she was, May found herself in Peter's hospital room, looking down at her nephew, with Mary Jane close by. He was awake, which was a good thing, but the way he looked into her eyes made her deeply saddened. 

"Um, you're Aunt May, right? At least that's what she--" Peter tilted his head towards Mary Jane, since he had forgotten her name again, "--Told me." 

May felt tears well up in her eyes. "Oh my god, you don't even know who am I!" she gasped, covering her eyes as she began to cry. 

Mary Jane went by the old woman's side to comfort her. Peter looked up at her sadly; why was she crying? Was it some he had done? Peter felt something warm fall down his cheek, which Peter suddenly knew was a tear. _Why am I crying? Then again, why is she crying?_ he asked himself, looking away from May. "I-I'm sorry if I made you sad," he whispered. 

May glanced at Peter between sobs. She wasn't sure how to react; even if he couldn't remember her, Peter still seemed to care about her. May sat down on a nearby chair, with Mary Jane tagging along. Mary Jane sat down beside her, and said in a comforting tone, "It's alright, Aunt May, I-I'm sure things will turn out alright. Peter will probably get his memory back sooner than you think," 

  
  
**That's like saying, 'What the worst that can happen?'. Because, for some reason, they always get worse. So, you can tell that it won't be sooner than you think, because that week later, Peter still didn't have his memory back...**

  
  
"So...where do you think Pete should stay, until he gets he memory back at least?" Harry asked curiously, sticking his hands into his jacket's pocket, as he, May and MJ walked into the hospital together, to release Peter from the hospital. "Should he stay at the apartment building, or at your house, Mrs. Parker?" 

"My house," May replied firmly, "Maybe once he's got a good look at the place where he lived most of his life, he'll start to remember tings." 

Harry nodded in agreement. "Maybe," 

MJ sighed, flipping her freshly showered red hair back, "Well, at least now he _slightly_ remembers us. He remembers our names, when we come to see him, at least," 

"Well, that's still not good enough," huffed Harry, as they travelled down the hospital corridors, "That's only because we told him our names before. Over and over. Has he always been such a scatter brain?" 

Aunt May gave Harry a scolding look, "No! You'd probably have that same reaction if you had amnesia too, Harry!" 

Harry breathed out. "Well, you have a point. But I'm just...angry." 

MJ nodded. "Well, we'll just have to try our best to make sure Pete gets his memory back. That's all we can do," 

May nodded as she opened the door to Peter's pastel green hospital room. Peter, who was sitting from his bed, now fully dressed with some spare clothes Harry had brought in for him the day before, looked up expectantly at the group he had only 'met' recently. 

"So, Pete, you ready to go?" asked Harry. 

"Go where?" 

"To my house," May answered simply. 

"Where's that? Is it anything like this place?" 

"It's not that far. And no, it's not like the hospital," MJ replied, walking closer to Peter. When she took a good look at Peter, she was happy to see that his burn marks were gone completely. But, it also pained her to see him with that white bandage still wrapped around his head, with brown hair dangling over top of the long bandage(even thought the concussion had almost fully healed, the doctors didn't want to take a chance), and that his broken wrist was covered with a cast. 

"Good," breathed Peter, "This place isn't exactly what I'd call an ideal place to sleep at night," 

MJ chuckled a bit at that, followed by Harry. May just smiled a bit. "What? I'm serious, every time I fall asleep, some beeping goes off, the doctors rush in, it's just a false alarm, and I'm left awake for another hour." 

MJ raised an eyebrow at Peter, but shook her head, dismissing it. "Well, anyway, you're ready to go, right?" 

Peter shrugged. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess," 

MJ nodded, and helped Peter stand up. He hadn't walked much at all since the accident, so his legs still felt like jelly whenever he stood up. But soon, they were all walking out of the hospital, once May had signed the release form. 

Peter stepped outside the hospital building, a little bit behind May, MJ, and Harry. He felt a gust of wind race up to him, and was immediately thankful that Harry had given him a coat just before they exited the building. But as soon as Peter glanced up at the tall skyscrapers of Queens, New York, he felt a strange welcoming beckoning him, with a familiar feeling creeping up his spine. A small tug pulled at the back of his mind, saying that it was... right. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he knew that it must have been important. Peter closed his eyes, breathing in the slightly polluted air. He coughed a bit, not used to it since the air in the hospital was mostly clean. Peter shook his head, and looked back up at the skyscrapers. An uncontrollable pull made him lift his good arm up towards the buildings, and started to push his middle and ring finger towards his palm.. 

"Hey, Pete, come on!" Harry called to his amnesiac friend, who started acting strangely as soon as he had stopped walking. Peter snapped out of his trance at his call, imediately bringing his arm down by his side. He shook his head a couple of times, the memory of the tug in the back of his head soon forgotten, as he jogged to catch up with Harry, who was already at his limo, with May and MJ already inside. 

Peter's blue eyes widened as he looked inside the limo. It was...huge! It even had a TV in there, and a VCR. There was also a red phone beside the TV, and another one right beside it, which was blue. 

Peter sat down on the black leather seat beside May, his eyes still a bit wide with wonder. 

Harry noticed his look, and couldn't help but smile. "It's alright, Pete, I just offered to your aunt to ride in my limo to her house, and she agreed, since she doesn't have a car." 

Peter glanced at Harry, and nodded. "But...you must be..._rich_ to be able to afford this!" 

Harry chuckled a bit, "I guess you can say that. But it's really all from my father, Norman Osborn. Sadly...he's not here," Harry's face fell. 

"Why? What happened?" Peter asked, feeling a cold chill run down his spine when he heard the name 'Norman Osborn'. 

"He was murdered," Harry replied. Harry shook his head, and smiled at Peter, when he saw his amnesiac friend show a sad look. "Don't feel bad, Pete, you've always been there for me, even then, so now, I'm going to return the favour." 

  
  
About ten minutes later, Harry's long sugar white limo pulled up to May's house. When Peter saw it, he immediately felt at home. He blinked, not quite knowing why. He stepped out of the limo, followed by May and MJ. Just before Harry stepped out, his slapped his forehead and groaned, "Ah, crap! I forgot! Since you're going to be living with your aunt for a while, Pete, you'll need your things! I'll go get them, I'll see you guys in a bit." He closed the limo door behind him, and his limo went off soon after. 

"O...k..." Peter blinked. He shook his head, and followed off after May and MJ into the older yellow house. 

About 30 minutes later, Harry came back, just as promised, with Peter's things. He had a suitcase full of clothes, a few textbooks from collage(even though it was obvious Peter couldn't go to collage for a while), another suit case full of random things, and to top it off, a box with a lock on it. 

"What's in here?" asked Peter, looking down at the box. 

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It was locked, and I couldn't open it, so I brought it for the heck of it." 

Peter crouched down, and fingered the box. He glanced at the lock; it looked like it needed a key. Peter went into deep thought; he knew it was somehow important to him... 

Before he could go any further examining it, the ringing of a phone made him fall back in surprise. MJ helped his back up, with a reassuring smile on her face directed at Peter. It's alright, Pete, it's just the phone," 

Harry was about to answer it, when May picked it up. "Hello?" she asked. 

"_Hello, is this Mrs. Parker_?" 

"Yes, who's this?" May replied. 

"_This is Peter's boss, Jonah Jameson. I've called to see how Peter was doing, since I heard from the hospital he was just released. I want to know when he can come back to work,_" 

May frowned, "I'm sorry, Mr. Jameson, but he won't be able to come back to work for a while." 

"_Why not?_" 

"He's in no position to do so. He's...currently suffering from amnesia." 

"_What?_" Jameson asked in alarm and surprise, trying to hold back to volume of his voice. He cleared his throat, "_I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Parker. I wish your nephew well. Good bye._" 

  
  
Jameson hung up the phone, and sat down on his couch on his viturally empty living room. "This is...unbelievable," he breathed. "Now what..?" 

  
  


***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*** _Before, I was so high,   
but then I crashed, and I burn.   
Then I soon learn,   
I am empty as the sky..._ ***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

  
  
**~To Be Continued...~**

  
  
**A/N:**Eh, chapter's a bit slow. *shrugs* But I got to set things where they'll be, you know, set the mood. ^__^ This will get better, I promise! Action will come sooner then you think! Please review! ^__^ 


	4. Nightly Havok

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Spider-man in any way, except for a few comics and pics of Tobey Maguire(^__^). Otherwise, I don't own diddly- squat. The only thing I own in this story is the villan, Bladefly. I don't own anything else. If I make anyone else up this story, though, I'll let you all know. So, no sueing me! 

  
  


~Chapter 3~   
~Nightly Havok~

  
  
_He walked along the busy streets of Queens, New York rapidly. Even in the late, moon bathed evening there were many people still out, doing who knows what. He had his left hand stuck in his army green jacket pocket, fingering a newly earned 100$ bill. He had hoped for more, but the person who had paid him was cheap, and wouldn't give away a dollar, unless his life depended on it. Which, so far, hadn't occurred yet. He could have crowned that guy Ebenezer Scrooge, and nobody would know the difference, let alone complain. _

He lifted his head as he heard the murmurs coming from a crowd which he was approaching; he hated crowds with a passion, but was still curious to see what all the fuss was about. His already rapid walking started to quicken when he heard some voices from the crowd-- "Shot...old man..." 

His stomach did not only a leap, but a back sprint and a cartwheel following. No, it couldn't be...wouldn't_ be...could it? Would it? It shouldn't. He was just being paranoid, how could that happen..? _

He walked up into the crowd, and started to push by in the crowd to see what was happening. He squinted his eyes as he neared, and opened them fully when some police officers tried to push him back. He could have easily knocked them down, but thought better of it. 

He wished he didn't when he was almost inside the heart of the crowd, which was actually a big circle. His vivid blue eyes widened in horror when he saw an old man on the ground, with officers surrounding him, bleeding. "H-hey that my uncle!" he shouted out in a slightly choked voice, when he heard a female officer try to reason with him to stand back. 

Taken aback, the female officer flinched, letting him go by, and to the side of his injured uncle. He touched the old man's hand gingerly, and pulled it back quickly. "W-what happened?!" he demanded. 

"Car jacker, he's been shot." The female officer answered simply in a bit of a sympathetic tone, as another officer placed a folded coat underneath the old man's head. 

Oh, no, it...it can't be! No! How, why..?_ he thought desperately, now clinging onto the old man's wrinkled hand. In desperation, he pleaded in a soft voice, "Uncle Ben?" No answer. "Uncle Ben." _

Uncle Ben's eyes cracked open a little at his call, his eyes watery with pain and agony. He glanced at him, and smiled a little in relief. "P-peter." he choked out in a rasped voice. 

I'm right here, Uncle Ben_ Peter wanted to comfort his 68 year old uncle with those words, but found he was at a lose for then. _Oh, please don't die, please don't die, I need you..

"P-p-peter." Uncle Ben stated again, this time in a much more strained voice. Peter grasped onto his hand harder, now on the brink of tears. Come on, stay with me now...

Uncle Ben smile started to fade a little, as his old pained eyes slid shut for the last time. His face lost expression, and his grip on his nephew's hand loosened. He was gone, gone into the world where it is bliss, but at the same time, lonely without your loved ones. 

Peter realized this as soon as the old man's grip loosened. He tried gripping onto it tighter to revive him, but to no avail. He couldn't hold it back, didn't want to; he broke down in a fit of sobs, as tears streaked his cheeks, which were now red with anxiety. He shut his eyes, as he continued to let out broken sobs of sorrow. Oh my god, he didn't make it...no, Uncle Ben...!

A call from the now distant reality brought Peter back into the world of the living(no pun intended), "They've got the shooter! He's headed for south on Fifth Avenue!" 

Murmurs engulfed the crowd, almost clouding out the distant sirens of an ambulance. Peter suddenly went silent, determination and pure rage streaking his face. No, 'they' won't get him. I will._ He stood up with a new light, a goal in mind--_

  
  
Peter fell out of his bed with a sharp gasp, and landed hard on his butt with a soft thud. Still partly asleep, he groaned as he feebly reached in blind darkness for the soft bed he so desperately wanted to get back on. He climbed onto the bed, and ran his fingers through his now messy brown hair. 

Cold sweat was streaking down his race like horses running on a race track. 

Peter gained a puzzled expression; why would he be sweating so much? He then remembered-- a dream. A now very distant dream, the rude wake up call probably knocking it back into his subconscious, along with the rest of his lost memory. He sighed to himself in self pity, trying hard to remember the dream. He couldn't. 

But whatever it was, he knew deep down, that it was very important. Which is what scared Peter that most. 

  
  
Miles away from Peter and his troubled sleep, a four year old boy named Jason had also woke up in his bed in the middle of the night. He sniffed, remembering the nightmare he had just had, about a monster under his bed attacking him. 

His almost unnatural looking amethyst eyes closed, as he started to cry a little. Suddenly, he heard something coming from his window. He stifled a gasp, and brought his Superman quilt closer to him. He heard it again, this time it was closer. Gathering breath, he screamed out at the top of his lungs, his short ebony hair flailing around, "_Mommy!!_" 

Almost immediately, a hall light flickered on outside of the boy's room. His door burst open, a figure flicking on the light, illuminating the entire area. "What's wrong, Jason?" his mother asked, concerned. 

"I had a nightmare," Jason sniffed. "And I think there's a monster outside!" 

His mother's expression softened. She went by his side and crouched down onto her knees. She brushed her fingers through his hair, and said soothingly, "It's alright, Jason. There's nothing to be afraid of. Here, I'll show you." She got up from her son's side, and walked over to his blue framed window. She opened it up, letting a burst of wind come through it. She shivered a bit, then stuck her head out. She looked around outside into the inky black darkness. Nothing. She looked back at Jason with a smile. "See, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just the wind." 

"Not quite." 

Jason's mother gasped when she heard the new voice, and looked up, eyes widened in horror. She screamed, as she witnessed the villain, Bladefly, sitting in a tree, grinning evilly ear to ear. He took a shuriken(A/N:thanks LAXgirl! ^_^) from his belt, and set it aflame with his flame-throwing wrists. He threw it almost immediately, shouting out in evil glee, "Catch!" it went right through the open window; Jason's mother yelped as she barely dodged it, but hitting her head on the window in the process, rubbing her head and winced in pain. 

"Mommy!!" 

Jason's mother turned around, and her lime green eyes widened in horror to see the room now aflame. Her son was screaming at the top of his lungs, scrambling to get out of bed and out of the room. "Jason!" she shouted out, running for her son. She scooped him up, coughing as she started to breath in the toxic smoke. She tried to protect him by burying his face into her shoulder, as she fumbled for the door to get out of there. She squinted her eyes closed, just as Bladefly threw in what looked like a pumpkin bomb through the window. It set off, just as Jason's mother made her way out the bedroom door. She was pushed forward by a force of gravity, as another brightly coloured and deadly explosion came from the room.. 

  
Just as the explosions of bright, almost neon red orange and hot yellow started, the house also went up in flames, and the figure of Bladefly jumping agiliy and with great speed from tree to tree away from the house was seen to those who were on the streets. 

  
  
_"Tragedy strikes uptown New York City much earlier this morning," started the newscaster, Janice Smith, on MSNBC, "A random house on Fifth Avenue was caught ablaze by a mysterious explosion. Inside the house, were Mrs. Cotton and her son. The two are in critical, but stable condition at St. Patrick's hospital. This may just seem like some gang causing trouble, but this thing has happened before. _

"Almost two weeks ago, Gray Law Office in downtown NYC was also caught in an explosion, causing many injuries to the workers there, four deaths, and even the disappearance of NYC's own superhero, Spider-man. Five days later, there was another explosion, this time at a Staples building. All have one thing in common- the explosions only effected the inside of the buildings, and everything else around it were safe. 

"The FBI are studying this case day and night, believing that these explosions have to do with either terrorist attacks, or Spider-man's doing, thus his disappearance, though it hasn't been confirmed." 

Janice was about to start a new topic, when a man from the side handed her a new sheet of paper. She quickly glanced it over, then stated, "This just in-- a video tape has been recovered for the explosion of the Cottons' house. We will play it now." 

The TV screen switched from the face of Janice to a different scene; on the streets of NYC, right in front of the Cottons' house. In the background, the filmer was talking, when suddenly, you could hear a scream. The filmer became silent, and a figure clad in gray and purple, jumped away from the house steathily, but could still be caught on tape. A few moments later, the explosions started. The filmer screamed in surprise and terror, and started to curse in a string of colourful words in all kinds of languages, Spanish, French, and English, which was blocked out by many well placed BEEP_s. Then, the video was switched off, and went back to Janice. _

Janice was actually staring in shock at what she had just seen, blinking her cinnamon brown eyes continuously. She shook her head, and managed to stutter out, "...A-and so it appears, that we have just spotted who was behind all of the explosions, though we are unable to identify him..." she trailed off, then proclaimed, "...But he, or she, is obviously not Spider-man. But if it isn't...then where can Spider-man be?" 

  
  
May turned the TV in the living room on mute, as Janice said her last line on MSNBC. May shook her head; those poor people. It was just like that terrible Green Goblin all over again. She sympathized for the family, since she knew what it was like to be attacked in her own home. She had been put in the hospital for a week because of it. 

May shuddered, remembering what had happened during the attack, and after the attack. When she thought about her time in the hospital, the painful memory of Peter's amnesia came to the surface of her mind, making her feel sadder than before. She was knocked out of her train of thought by the sound of approaching footsteps just upstairs, and the old floor boards creaking a bit. She turned her head around, just into time to hear a loud _THUMP_, followed by a sharp cry of pain, obviously from Peter, the only other person in the house. May was about to get up and help Peter with whatever had happened, when she heard the sound of floor boards resume creaking, as Peter continued to make his way down the hall upstairs. Hearing that her nephew was fine, she continued to sit on the couch, but called out, just in case, "Peter? Are you alright?" 

A grunt from Peter came the reply, as he started to walk down the stairs. He was rubbing his cheek gingerly, when he stated, "Aunt May, why does there have to be so many stupid doors in this house? I just banged into one walkin' down the hall.." 

May held back a small laugh, but at the same time felt concerned for her nephew. "Weren't you able to see them, though?" 

"The lights were off." Peter said simply. "I wasn't expecting a wall to be right in front of my room." 

"I guess you'll have to remember to turn on the lights next time then," 

Peter nodded, and sat down on the pine green plush couch next to May's baby blue one-person couch. A pause, and then Peter asked his aunt curiously, "Did I...always bump into walls before or something? Or, at least leave the lights off then get a tour of the wall?" 

May's eyebrows furrowed, "Once, when you were four. You were still getting used to the house at the time then, too." 

"What do you mean, 'I was still getting you used to the house'?" 

May's eyebrows raised up, as she looked downwards. "Your parents died when you were four. You had to move in with me and Uncle Ben." 

Peter let in a small surprised gasp, as he eyes widened in disbelief. "My parents are...dead? I have an Uncle Ben? Is...he dead too?" 

May nodded grimly. "Your parents died in an airplane crash. And your Uncle was shot by a car jacker." 

Peter slowly slid his eyes shut in grief, but at the same time in deep thought. That dream... 

_...He saw an old man on the ground, with officers surrounding him, bleeding. "H-hey that my uncle!" he shouted out in a slightly choked voice, when he heard a female officer try to reason with him to stand back. _

Taken aback, the female officer flinched, letting him go by, and to the side of his injured uncle. He touched the old man's hand gingerly, and pulled it back quickly. "W-what happened?!" he demanded. 

"Car jacker, he's been shot." The female officer answered simply in a bit of a sympathetic tone, as another officer placed a folded coat underneath the old man's head. 

Oh, no, it...it can't be! No! How, why..?_ he thought desperately, now clinging onto the old man's wrinkled hand. In desperation, he pleaded in a soft voice, "Uncle Ben?" No answer. "Uncle Ben." _

Uncle Ben's eyes cracked open a little at his call, his eyes watery with pain and agony. He glanced at him, and smiled a little in relief. "P-peter." he choked out in a rasped voice... 

"Peter, are you alright?" The fleeting memory/dream got knocked back into the distance of his subconscious, as May called out to Peter. Peter opened his eyes again, and mumbled, "Ya, I'm fine." He paused in reflection for a moment, then asked quietly, "What did Uncle Ben...look like, Aunt May?" 

May's blue eyes softened for a moment, as she stood up. "I'll show you a picture of him, Peter," She walked away into the powder blue kitchen for a minute, leaving Peter alone. His eyes were caught by the TV, as Janice was talking in a panic, but looked like she was lip-syncing since the TV was on mute. Peter picked up the steel gray remote control from the dark tree bark brown coffee table idly, and took the TV off mute. Instantly Janice's words came to life- 

_"--As seen just a bit earlier, we are about to show the recently developed footage of a video tape from last night's attack on the Cottons' house.." Janice said slowly, trying hard to gulp down the panic in the back of her throat._

The TV's reflection glowed on Peter's deep blue eyes; the calmness, the blazing fire, and the mysterious running man... 

Peter gritted his teeth in unknown and uncontrollable anger, and he clenched his fists into tight balls. _Why...would someone do such a thing?_ he thought angrily. _..._HOW_ could someone do such a thing??_

Peter felt May's reassuring and warm touch to his shoulder, spinning around just before it happened. He somehow knew that would happen, before it happened, but took no notice to it. May showered Peter with a small sad smile, and said, "It's hard to believe what people do in this world." She sighed and shook her head a little, then showed Peter a framed picture. 

It made Peter join in with May's sad smile, seeing the three of them(Aunt May, Uncle Ben, and himself) all together, dressed up as they would for church. They all bared a broad smile on each of their faces, and what surprised Peter a lot, was that he was wearing _glasses_. Funny, he didn't wear them now.. 

Peter shook his head, then looked back at the old man in the photo. He _did_ seem somewhat familiar, and not just because of his dream. He touched the photo gently with his fingertips, then whispered, "We seemed happy. I...wish to know what that was like, to remember being...like that," 

May's small smile faded as she gave her amnesiac nephew a comforting hug, "I wish you could too, Peter. They were such good times. But soon, this amnesia will pass, and your memory will return. But in the meantime, we just have to...be patient," 

"Was I ever patient?" 

"...Not especially, but at some points." 

"Well, I guess I'm still not a very patient person." 

  
  


**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**   
_Do you ever fill the world passing by you?   
You're stuck in a cage, with no idea who   
You are,   
Or what you are?   
Do you ever feel that there is a greater thing in store   
for you, without the blood and gore?   
Maybe it's time to be released from your cage,   
But first you must turn the page,   
And try to ignore your rage.   
Who are you?   
...I have no clue._   
**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

  
  
**~To Be Continued...~**

  
  
**A/N:** Ie-ya! Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out! It may also still seem slow, but the next chapter will improve. Probably not at first, but at some point during the chapter! ^_^ So please review!   
BTW-   
It's my birthday!! Yay! *throws confetti* :p 


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